150. THE SEX GODDESS AND THE PRUDE

“Catch any mice today?” I joke. He laughs, “No!” “Will John be joining us again?” I ask. Suddenly his mood shifts to sullen and he shakes his head. “Think John was stoned last night?” I ask. Town and Country shrugs, and with indifference says, “It’s his thing.” Meanwhile I am fascinated that John would brazenly get laced and then stay with his boss. I rather admire him for that. Even at my age, I still need my parents’ acceptance and continue to do things they would never approve behind their backs. Nice to see that plump 14-year old with sideburns, braces and eye-glasses still lives inside of me. That freak has been following me around for years!

We go into the dining room and he grabs wine and glasses. On the sideboard I see his car registration. “Drive much?” I ask. “Not really. Just to see my folks. Most of the time it sits in the garage."

Upstairs we sink into the couch and he goes RADIO silent. I glance over to see if he’s breathing or dead. Because the quiet begins to LITERALLY kill my inner chatty Chaaya, I ask, “How long have you been on the matrimonial Website?” “Not long. You’re the first person I’ve met.” Sigh and ggrrr. This is NEVER a good sign. Recently joined people are in the experimental stage. And I understand the curiosity I was once like that. But I have been out there long enough to know I am ready to meet THE ONE and settle down.

If my cousin were here she’d remind me that I am unmarried because of my own choosing. That had I selected (read: settled) one of those B-grade-guys-who-was-more-into-me-than-I-he, I’d be married now and in time would grow to love him. Unlike her, I don’t think a husband is a plant; I cannot simply water him into love.

“I was seeing someone seriously but we broke up last month,” Town and Country shares. Okay, Desi Girl, this does not bode well for you either. At least, up-front I know I will be insignificant, nothing more than a time pass while he’s mourning her. And I am not insane or narcissistic enough to think I have what it takes for him to get over her. “I called her on my birthday and she took days to get back to me,” he says sadly.

I feel a little bad for him and clear my throat, “Look, I know women. Her delay in returning the call means she either needs space or is over you. I understand how awful that sounds, but a smitten woman calls you. Especially on your birthday. I know I’ve done it. And will do it again.” He looks at me and nods. “I know I’m withdrawn tonight. She never liked it when I was like this. This is actually the second break up.” Really? Now I have to play therapist? I sigh and say, “Please tell me you didn’t WAIT for her to come back to you.” “No I dated someone else. It didn’t last but the sex was great.”

Does he think we’re friends? Because I really don’t want to know about his sex with ANOTHER ex. And on the off chance I sleep with him, I, the prude, don’t need the pressure of wondering how I stack up against the sex goddess. When he changes topics and talks about his family, I feel relief and concentrate on S-L-O-W-L-Y sipping my wine.

To be cont.